Tainted
by lovepb13
Summary: Gwen comes to Morgana on her wedding night. Gwen/Morgana


Title: Tainted  
Fandom: Merlin  
Genre: Romance  
Characters & Pairings: Gwen/Morgana  
Rating: R  
Spoilers: None  
Disclaimer: I don't own BBC's_ Merlin  
_Summary: Gwen comes to Morgana the night before her wedding.

It was the night before the wedding when Gwen came to Morgana with fear in her eyes. She had looked so small and helpless and Morgana had to fight the urges to either comfort or conquer her. It was a battle that often raged within her, her heart would flutter and long to take Gwen in her arms and whisper sweet nothings into her hair but another part of her, a lower darker part, wanted nothing more than to claim Gwen until she screamed her name in ecstasy. This, then, made for an interesting predicament when Gwen turned up in her chambers still in her fine gown from the feast.

"I'm scared." Gwen whispered, triggering both instincts within Morgana.

"Arthur is a good man, he will be gentle with you." Morgan assured her, not trusting herself to cross the room and comfort Gwen.

"You know he has been sleeping with Merlin?" Gwen asked, tears threatening to spill from her big brown eyes when Morgana nodded. "I don't have a choice in marrying him do I?"

"He needs an heir." Morgana said, not believing the words that came from her own mouth.

"He doesn't love me." Gwen said.

"No." Morgana agreed. "I'm sorry."

"And I don't love _him_." Gwen whispered as if it were a scandalous thing.

"Think of the one you love when you are with him, maybe it will make it easier." Morgana suggested, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

"That's why I'm here." Gwen said, her voice shaky.

"Gwen..." Morgana began.

"I need to say this." Gwen cut in. "Just let me say this."

Morgana nodded mutely.

"One of the maids was telling me about her wedding and how wonderful it was to share that night with the one she loved most in the world. I want that." Gwen's voice was calm now and Morgana couldn't help but wonder if she had practiced this conversation. "I want _you_."

"You must think of your kingdom, of your king." Morgana said, fisting her shaking hands to steady them.

"How can I when all my thoughts are of you?" Gwen pleaded.

Something inside Morgana broke, the distance between her and Gwen fell away and before she could even breathe their lips were pressed together, open and longing. Tongues slipped between them and fingers grasped bruising on Morgana's arm, tensing with the pulses that reverberated between them. Gwen gasped as Morgana's teeth grazed her bottom lip then sucked on the inflamed skin, soothing it with her tongue.

"I can't stop." Morgana gasped. "Any further and I won't ever be able to stop."

Morgana got her answer when Gwen's deft hands roughly ripped the gown from r head her shoulder, devouring the newly exposed skin with her lips then moving up the column of Morgana's throat when she threw back her head and moaned. She had finally come undone.

................................................................................

When Morgana awoke and swung her legs out of the bed, grasping the edge as the moonlight was faint though her window, showing up the bruises that marred her perfectly white skin. A sharp intake of breath sent the remnants of pleasure through her body, shivering in the cold air. Gwen was gone, of course she was, the blood on white sheets the only sign of their amorous tryst, that and the equally red marks scratched into Morgana's back and thighs. It hadn't been gentle as Morgana had promised Arthur would be but between the two of them it was never going to be gentle. A passion kept restrained for so long cannot be controlled when it is finally set free, no matter how hard you try.

Morgana's thought drifted to the events of the following day and her stomach wrenched, shoulders falling forward as her head spun and she gasped for breath. Her stomach clenched again and bile rose in her throat as visions of Arthur's rough hands on Gwen's thighs and breasts flashed in her mind. Colours swam before her eyes and tears ran down her cheek as she racked in an agony of her own creation.

When light came she would bathe in the warm water, washing Gwen away, and would put on the dress that hung waiting for the big day. She would brush her hair and drape herself in the jewels that were already laid out on her dresser. She would smile as Gwen walked towards the altar and try not to think of how it felt to have the hands, that now clutched at the bridal bouquet, scraping rapturously deep inside her.


End file.
